


Birthday Tradition

by PrintDust



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 09:02:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2062125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrintDust/pseuds/PrintDust





	Birthday Tradition

He is acutely aware that he has slept in the moment he jolts awake, his ears prickling with the sounds of early morning activities that orient themselves around the fire pit just outside the tent door. Lori has left the rear windows unzipped, allowing a light breeze to ease the heat that has lingered into the fall, humid and weighty. Rolling over, Rick snags Lori's pillow and slips it under his head. Staring at the pitched nylon ceiling above him, he takes a moment to himself.

The smell of her shampoo lingers in the fabric of their sheets and he smiles as his mind flips back to the previous night – the two of them, alone with each other for the first time in days. He had been charged with keeping watch while she took advantage of the warm water in the small stream behind their campsite. They hadn't bathed since leaving the CDC weeks before and she had groaned with pleasure as she scrubbed sweat and dirt from her skin.

It hadn't taken long for them to both end up in the creek – Even after thirteen years of marriage she is irresistible to him.

Her voice filters now through the thin fabric of the tent, a giddy laugh that has him raising an eyebrow as the zipper on the door opens, revealing his wife, still dressed in his boxers and the blue tank-top she'd gone to bed in the night before. Her hair is twisted into a loose braid over her shoulder and he admires the exposed skin of her thighs as she turns around to close door.

"Mornin'," she greets him, sneaking a look over her shoulder as she slips her boots off, her eyes a flash of green and brown framed by dark lashes.

He nods, swallowing as he watches her approach him, a small paper bag in her hands. He knows the look on her face, she is planning something, though he can't for the life of him figure out what it is. Turning his attention to the bag he squints at it. "Someone do a run?"

Lori nods, taking a seat on the edge of the cot, the bag settling on the bed beside her. When he reaches for it, she swats his hand away, her face twisting into a stern expression that is belied by the upturn of the corner of her mouth. "Now, now," she snags the bag. "It's not quite ready yet."

Lifting his head from the pillow curiously, he is suddenly looking at her back as she turns it to him. The sound of paper crinkling and a soft curse peaks his curiosity further.

"Damn, I put my thumb through it," she mutters, fumbling with something on her lap.

Reaching out he traces the length of her spine, starting at her shoulder blade then down, skating over the cotton fabric of her shirt, into the valley that dips into the small of her back. He isn't sure what has gotten into him, but he can't seem to get his mind out of the gutter whenever she is around. It reminds him of when she was pregnant; there was something about her that had become intoxicating.

He isn't sure that the snap sound is at first, but he recognizes it as soon as he smells burning sulphur and he wonders why the hell she is lighting a match – inside the tent of all places.

"Alright," she whispers, turning slowly to reveal a chocolate Tastykake that she has set on her palm, a single blue candle shoved through its cream-filled center. She is using her other hand to shelter the candle that ignites her eyes with its golden flame.

Rick can't help but squint in confusion as he inspects the scene before him, that to him, seems entirely out of place. He regrets his expression instantly when he sees her falter, her excitement dimming slightly as her hand waivers before she lifts it to twist the end of her braid nervously.

"What's the occasion?" he finds himself asking, reaching out to still her hand by taking it in his own, mindful of the still open flame between them.

Lori takes a breath. "According to the calendar on the wall in the RV, your birthday," she purses her lips, tilting her head. "I know it's… impractical, and frivolous-," taking a deep breath then releasing it, her eyes moisten. "I just thought we should take a minute to celebrate… even if the rest of the world's gone to shit."

They both chuckle at her words and he nods, falling even more in love with her, even if it is all a little absurd. "Should I make a wish?" he finds himself asking, if only to get her to smile again.

It works and she nods, holding the small cake closer. "So I guess Glenn or TDog is in on it then."

She lifts one shoulder and begins to explain with earnest. "Daryl actually…I didn't know how well Glenn could keep a secret," she shakes her head simply. Shrugging, she indicates the candle again with her chin. "Well?"

Humouring her, he runs his thumb over the inside of her wrist. "I wish that we could get Carl to change that space dog t-shirt … I think he's been wearing it for a week straight."

Lori's eyes widen. "You said it out loud, now it'll never come true," she drawls playfully, motioning for him to blow out the candle.

He does, with a quick puff of air, and then snags the cake from her so he can set it on the ground beside the bed. "That's alright," he traces her forearm to her elbow and pulls her toward him, guiding her to lie beside him on the bed. "I've got everything I need," he confesses, kissing her forehead. "And a Tastykake." Pressing a kiss to her lips, he feels her smile against his mouth as he reaches for the chocolate treat to share it.

"I love you," she snuggles into his side, her head finding his shoulder while her hand snakes around his waist to hug him. "Happy Birthday."

XXXX

They have been sleeping in a bank for the better part of a month, those of them who are left, anyway. The small town seems to be uninhabited, vacant of both the living and the dead. They sleep in a windowless back room that feels almost as safe as the prison once had, with its barred door and thick concrete walls. Carl and Daryl have actually taken to sleeping inside the walk-in safe, stretched out on opposite walls underneath bolted shelves that are stacked high with useless wads of cash that they barely even register except that they make good insulation to keep out the cold.

Glenn and Maggie have taken the front room so they can keep watch and maintain some privacy in their young marriage.

Rick sleeps with Judith behind a row of overturned filing cabinets that act as a make-shift playpen to contain the one-year-old. She has taken to wandering off when left unsupervised, so they are all extra vigilant. When she does sleep, he loves the feel of her curled up against his chest, her tiny hand gripping his earlobe or twisted into his hair, sweet even breaths curling against the underside of his jaw.

Unfortunately, tonight she has decided to act up, squirming impatiently in his lap each time he snags the back of her onesie to pull her back towards him. "Judy," he sighs, keeping his voice low and only mildly impatient. "It's past bedtime."

She lets out a wail to demonstrate that she is as frustrated as he is, trying to crawl out of his grasp. "Dada," she complains, her voice pitching into a shriek, then a high sob.

Sliding his hands under her arms, he lifts her to him, patting her back lightly. "I know," he agrees. "I miss her too."

He isn't sure of the exact date, of then, or now… technically the anniversary could have come and gone, but it had occurred to him that it had been a year –give or take - since Lori'd gone, and it had hit him harder than he ever could have guessed it would have. A familiar ache had settled into his chest, raw, like he'd aggravated an old wound.

A sound over his shoulder catches his attention and he looks up to find a shadow in the doorway. He recognizes it even before Daryl can mutter his standard, quiet, "Hey."

"I, uh," he steps into the room and approaches Rick, kneeling down on the other side of on of the cabinets. "I got her somethin'," he explains, digging into his pocket before depositing a crushed Tastykake onto a metal drawer, still in its cellophane wrapping. "Thought maybe it was a tradition or somethin'."

Judith's eyes widen curiously and she twists, first reaching for Daryl and then the cake. Rick lets her go, running his hand through his hair as he watches his daughter mash the still-wrapped cake between her eager hands. "It wa-," he clears his throat when his voice cracks with emotion. "It was just the one time."

Daryl looked up from where he is helping Judith open the cake. "Maybe it's a good time to start somethin' new then," he suggests. "She deserves that… Lori woulda' wanted it."

"You think?" Rick asks, unable to hold back his smile as he watches his daughter get more cake on her hands and down her front than in her mouth. Her delighted giggle lifted his heart and he reaches out to touch a dark ringlet that curls around her ear.

"She was always goin' on about preserving joy and all that sh-," his eyes move to Judith. He shrugs, "Shit. Thought it was all tits on a bull, but I guess maybe she had somethin'."

Rick nods. "Maybe we can do something for Carl this year too… sometime in the fall."

Daryl gets to his feet, tossing a cake at Rick's foot before producing another one from his pocket for himself. "Good thing these things've got a longer half-life than uranium."

Looking up at the other man's words, Rick watches him duck into the safe, and he shakes his head in disbelief. Even after almost two-years of living together, Daryl Dixon is an enigma.

He barely has a chance to retrieve and tear open the cake before his arms are full of baby again as Judith collides with his chest, chocolate cake and cream smeared across her cheeks, her hands sticky as they grip his shirt. She grunts enthusiastically, eyeing his Tastykake, bouncing against him.

"You're never gonna sleep again, are you?" he asks her, pushing the entire cake into his mouth. Judith immediately reaches up, her eyes wide with surprise at his vanishing act as her fingers press against his swollen cheeks.

It takes him a moment to chew, so he uses the time and her amused distraction to undress her from her soiled clothing.

When he finally swallows she was already tucked into his chest, her blanket snuggled around her as she drums her feet against his abdomen, her body slowly melting into his.

"Goodnight, Jude," he presses a kiss to her ear. "Happy Birthday."


End file.
